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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285710">all dressed up for a hit and run</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/everAcclimating/pseuds/everAcclimating'>everAcclimating</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1920s, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Noir, Clothed Sex, Deepthroating, Detectives, Face-Fucking, Fear of Discovery, Frottage, Gunplay, Large Cock, M/M, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Power Imbalance, Public Blow Jobs, Resolved Sexual Tension, Semi-Public Sex, Speakeasies, Unresolved Romantic Tension, mild asphyxiation, size queen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:28:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/everAcclimating/pseuds/everAcclimating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk Strider is the head of a local organized crime family and John Egbert is the detective hot on his trail trying to catch him. The UST has been fucking unbearable for months, and now the dam is finally breaking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dirk Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all dressed up for a hit and run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectobaby/gifts">ectobaby</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>first commission piece, babey.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You think it's flattering that this detective is on your ass so hard constantly. Now, you'd like him to be on your ass for real, at least probably, but that's not the point here. Every time he catches you and you say a sly little word or give him a wink he turns crimson and stammers and most of the time you slip right through his fingers slicker than an oiled wrestler in the ring.</p>
<p>Hm. Maybe you'll bring that up next time, you think.</p>
<p>You don't drink and you don't smoke but you still make your appearance known in the local speakeasies so everyone knows who's in charge. Because they do know who's in charge. People part as you walk and it's more annoying than anything when you think about it too hard so you try to ignore it, because you fell into this position when your guardian died, not because you built the family from scratch or <i>wanted</i> to do it.</p>
<p>Not that the perks aren't helpful, usually, and you run the business like a tight ship. You own all the local buildings but your tenants like you, generally speaking, because you don't ask questions. In fact, you own this speakeasy, and you supply the alcohol. Smuggle the alcohol. Whatever. You don't drink it, as stated, but you do taste tests for quality and to make sure no one's trying to give your patrons poison. You take hours to finish a single bee's knees but that's alright, because it allows you to linger and watch over what goes on. You're never very invested socially, though plenty of people approach you. For business offers you give them your card and tell them to come back during business hours to your office, like you're ever actually off the clock, and for amorous intentions... Well, you're just not interested as late.</p>
<p>You have bigger fish to fry.</p>
<p>Not that you're actually <i>interested</i> in the good detective that way. Romantically, that is. He's just fun to play with and cute to boot. A real looker. He always gazes at you so intensely before you get him good and in those moments you think maybe <i>he</i> could get <i>you</i> good, but you always snap out of it before that thought pushes itself too far into your brain. You don't have time to moon over some dick just because he's interesting. You're ruminating on all of this while dourly nursing a gin rickey. The shipment this time isn't as good as usual but it's all you've got and you're thinking about how you don't usually serve the rickeys with sugar but good goddamn they could use a little sweetness to smooth them out so you make your mind to say so to the bartenders before you leave.</p>
<p>You don't get a chance.</p>
<p>You realize someone's dropped a dime on you when the reinforced door slams open and a bunch of elephant ears start pouring in. So it's a bust. People start scattering to get out of the way, keep from getting caught, but the timing is bad. It's late, people are drunk and stumbling over each other, and they're getting nailed right and left. You wonder who's done the squealing while you're getting up and slipping off into the shadows where you have a hidden escape route when you catch his eye across the room. What the fuck is <i>he</i> doing here? He doesn't do raids. He doesn't do games like this, he single-mindedly follows...</p>
<p>You.</p>
<p>You don't have time to flirt today. You avert your gaze, turn away without an acknowledgment, and drift the fuck out of there. But he follows like he always does and as you try to slip out clean into the back alley behind the establishment he comes out after you and there's only one way out and he's blocking it. It puts you on edge and your hand drops to your side, fingers twitching. He didn't expect to see you in such a dive, he lies, and him calling it a <i>dive</i> is personally insulting in a way you can't even fathom, like he's digging right under your skin. <i>You</i> didn't expect to see <i>him</i> among the common johns, you snap back, and he looks surprised but he moves closer. You back up, trying to gain your bearings again, eyes flicking to the opening behind him that you can't quite squeeze through without giving him time to collar you. Not that you have to worry about escaping long, because you're off-balance enough that your back hits the wall and he smiles in a way you've never seen before that makes your heart jump in your rib cage as he plants a hand on the bricks next to your head. The district attorney's gunning for the electric cure with the judges once they really get you, he says, real low, right behind your ear, and you breathe a laugh and tell him that you'd vastly prefer to do the dance if you've got to go.</p>
<p>He pulls back and looks at you in a way that's oddly inscrutable for him and your brow furrows. You're not sure what's going on there—did you... Upset him? Something in you aches from that but it just makes you angry and you sigh and try to shove past him like nothing happened except that hand is planted on your shoulder now instead and your back hits the wall but <i>hard</i> and he's staring you right in the eyes earnestly, so intently that you can't fucking stand it. They wouldn't be upset if you just got lead poisoning one of these nights, he amends, in a way that sounds almost mournful and shakes you to your fucking core.</p>
<p>No. You can't do this. You can't.</p>
<p>So you cant your head and lower your lashes and ask him if he's packing heat to do it himself now that he's got you where he wants you but as you say it your hand drops to his hip in a way he can't possibly misinterpret. Even though he flushes he doesn't move away. His eyes narrow and you don't even have time to think before you're pinned right to the brick by his entire body and the air's shoved out of your lungs and his free hand is diving under his jacket and holy shit, holy shit, your eyes widen in very real surprise because it's never gotten this far before, he's never pulled his piece on you and your chest tightens when you recognize it, a fucking Smith and Wesson revolver that takes .38 specials. Even if you had your vest on right now it wouldn't save you in this proximity. Doubly so when the barrel touches your cheek then traces its way down to your throat. You don't <i>think</i> he'd plug you even now. </p>
<p>His finger isn't on the trigger. You swallow hard anyway before regaining some of your moxie, gloved fingertips digging right into his hip and yanking him even closer. If you can scare him off... You lower your lashes and look at him, orange peering right up into blue, and now <i>he</i> swallows, but the end of the barrel presses a little harder against your Adam's apple. You tip your head further to the side obediently, lips parting as you smile, and he can't seem to raise his gaze from your mouth, the glint of your teeth.</p>
<p>You ask him if he's going to clap some bracelets on you or kiss you, and to your absolute fucking surprise, he does the latter. It's hard and sudden and he swallows your surprised gasp in the same moment his tongue finds yours. You should disengage, you should leave, but you don't, you drag him in harder like he could get <i>any</i> closer to you and surge up against his mouth. Neither of you are gentle about it—your teeth grip his lower lip and <i>pull</i> and he groans and digs the blunted nails of the hand <i>not</i> pressing a gun to your throat into your nape. Your own free hand stutters and stalls and lifts to slip into your coat but those nails relent quick enough that you almost don't register it when he grips your wrist and slams <i>that</i> against the bricks too.</p>
<p>You're ashamed of it, but you moan right into his mouth as your fingers flex uselessly in the air but you don't yank free. He's strong, stronger than you anticipated, and you wonder what kind of muscles he's packing under that slick suit. But you're distracted too long and he bites your lip in retaliation and a shiver jolts through you right down to your treasonous ambassador, which is definitely quickly coming to attention like nothing else. Fuck. Every nerve in your body is zinging and judging by the way he looks at you when he pulls away, his are too. You roll your hips up against his in a lazy grind and he huffs a breath and you almost laugh about it until he drags his lips along your jaw and rolls his body down against yours and you have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning again just from that. This time you do yank your hand free, dragging your fingertips down the side of his neck before dropping both hands to his trousers and working at his buttons. The metal against your throat is warming against your skin but it feels less like a threat than it did before, because he's watching your hands. You get him open and draw his piece out through his fly and he sucks in a breath and <i>you</i> suck in a breath and you stare.</p>
<p>You ask him how long he's been packing a fucking kidney cracker like this and he laughs, he fucking laughs, until you give him a sharp squeeze and he stutters out a groan instead. It's not that you're ashamed of your own equipment, you know you're solid and you know what to do with it, but this is above and beyond the goddamn call of duty. You're pretty sure this is the biggest cock you've ever seen, is the point, and you're already thinking about sucking him off and it's like your jaw aches just from the mere idea. You actually shift like you're going to drop to your knees but he hems you in against the wall harder and shakes his head, pressing up against you and the weight of him freed like this resting on you is enough to make you shudder again. He mutters something about wanting you like this and his "free" hand works at your fly this time, drawing you out and pumping your cock a couple of times which does drag a frankly embarrassing sound out of you to the point that you flush and he grins again and tells you he's never seen you like this.</p>
<p>He says he likes it.</p>
<p>You tell him to close his trap and get down to business and he chuckles and grips both of you together in his hand and rolls his hips and your head sinks back to rest against the bricks. It's a little dry but that's brief because he leans down between you and fucking spits on your cocks and you're even more mortified that <i>that</i> is what makes you moan even louder. But it works—it's slicker as he rocks again and your fingers shake as you grip at his shoulder. He grins at you and thrusts again and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from gasping. It's funny, he's shifted enough that he's pressed the revolver flat against the wall next to you, palm holding it there, and it's pointed at you but there's no threat left whatsoever because there's no way the trigger's getting pulled like this. That's fine. You turn your head just enough to run your tongue along the barrel while you gaze at him in your peripheral vision and <i>his</i> eyes widen this time as his hips jolt.</p>
<p>You rock up against him and meet him halfway and he squeezes you both as your hands scrabble under his jacket and you can hear people walking by in the distance, probably looking for the two of you, and you open your mouth but he kisses you to shut you up, teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise, and you get the message loud and clear. Your cock's already leaking, flushed and red and making things even slicker and easier with each movement of both of your hips. It's rough, and hard, and most times he jerks his hips you're slammed back against the wall and you can't stop thinking about what it'd be like to have him turn you around and shove you against the wall and spread you open and maybe use some more of that spit when he—</p>
<p>—he rocks you hard back against the wall again and you jolt back out of your fantasy with a ragged noise, coming back to reality and the moment of what you <i>do</i> get, which is frankly more than you expected or deserve. You mumble a stupid-sounding <i>please</i> against his mouth and he runs his thumb over the head of your cock, slipping just a little to coax under the edge of your foreskin and you shudder harder, fingertips pressing so hard into his shoulders that you think they might be going numb. He keeps going, gentle touches and stretches in sharp contrast with the way he's rocking his heavy cock so hard against yours and you swear against his mouth and he smiles against yours and you hate him, you fucking hate him.</p>
<p>You love him. You think you could go straight and narrow for him, you really could, but that thought leaves you as he shifts his attention to apparently making you pop off as soon as possible, because he's jerking you expertly as he fucks against you and you feel like your nerves are unspooling within you and you let out a choked sound as you come, frustrated as you feel like it was too goddamn soon, but he raises his hand to lick the side of it clean of your come and only barely grimaces and it makes you laugh breathlessly as your chest hitches.</p>
<p>But he hasn't come yet.</p>
<p>You grunt and shove him off before dropping promptly to your knees, cock still loose out of your fly, and you grip the base of his piece and go right to town. You run your tongue along the length of him and get distracted by mouthing sloppy wet kisses along the shaft until his fingers curl tight in your hair and drag your head back so that he can press the head past your eager, parted lips. You hate that you love the authority so much. Fuck. You're already practically melted from orgasm and here he is turning you into a puddle on the ground before him just by nudging his cock a little deeper, heavy and heated on your tongue. He warns you that he'd already been close and you just grunt and grab his ass and urge him to thrust by pulling him toward you, staring him defiantly in the eyes.</p>
<p>Your defiance only lasts so long though because he listens, and he holds your head in place as he rocks his hips and you can't <i>breathe</i> but you love it, he's pressing so far into your mouth that you can get little huffs of air through your nose only when he pulls back and you were right, your jaw is straining around his girth and you really think this <i>is</i> the biggest cock you've tried to suck off and your brain once again supplies <i>kidney cracker</i> and you, also once again, moan embarrassingly, this time around his cock in such a way that makes <i>him</i> moan and jolt his hips forward a little harder than before. Your mouth's so full that the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat and you almost gag, scrabbling at him harder and staring up at him as your eyes water and he smiles breathlessly and pets your face and you almost sob but you don't know why.</p>
<p>Eventually his movements get more erratic and your eyes drift closed and you let him fuck your mouth and throat raw and you jolt and shudder as your cock tries to work itself back to hardness already and he mutters one more warning, hunched over you against the wall, and works his cock almost all the way in before he's coming right down his throat and you fucking <i>spasm</i> around him, moaning and having to work hard to swallow around his shaft but the way he gasps out your first name instead of <i>Mister Strider</i> is worth it. You don't really get to taste him because of how far back he goes off, but that's alright, and you swallow him down until you start to feel a little light-headed and he slowly pulls back so you can take a single fucking breath. You choke on that breath just a little as his cock slips out of your mouth, drooling briefly as you catch your bearings again, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your glove and look up at him and then straighten as you both fix up your clothing and tuck yourselves away again. The look he's giving you is strange and he's put his revolver away too—then he jerks his head to the opening of the alley and tells you to get out of here.</p>
<p>You hesitate because you're thinking about kissing him and you almost do, surging in a hair's breadth away, but then a voice booms out from the doorway and you jerk back like you were burned, eyes searching his before you bolt entirely because you can't do it, you thought you could but you can't, you can't just let yourself get collared for this guy no matter how cute he is and no matter how much you want him.</p>
<p>You feel his eyes burning into your back as you walk quickly and the sensation lingers with you long after you turn the corner and abscond.</p>
<p>You can even feel it late that night when you're laying in bed, and you wonder what it means.</p>
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